"One. Two. Three. And turn. One. Two. Three."
My mother's voice echoed across the dance room as me and four other dancers followed her beat.
Of course, being her child, I stood front and centre. I kept my feet steady, following her timing and direction without question.
Ballet was all about control, balance, precision, flawless movement. Strength hidden beneath elegance and very muscle working in silence, so the audience only ever saw something light and effortless.
Beautiful.
That was why I fell in love with it.
It always reminded me of a swan gliding across water, head held high, movements smooth and confident, hiding the furious work beneath the surface.
When I practiced alone, just me and the music, I felt like that.
Graceful. Free.
"Now front centre," my mother called.
I straightened instantly, setting my stance. We were preparing for a group performance, and she'd placed me as the lead -again. There was no room for mistakes, not with her watching and not with the others relying on me.
Perfection sat heavy in my chest.
Don't think about it, I told myself.
Think about the swan.
But even that didn't work anymore.
So instead, I thought about my new friend. The way my chest felt lighter around him. The way I didn't feel caged inside my own skin.
I rose onto my toes and moved.
I turned, jumped, split through the air, landed clean, and held the pose. My body followed the rhythm naturally, like it finally remembered how to breathe.
For the first time in a while, I felt like the swan.
My dancing had changed since I met Will.
Looser. Less rigid. Happier.
The music hadn't even finished when my mother cut it off.
"Stop."
The room stilled.
"It's fine," she said flatly. "But you can do better, Mei-Lin. Remember, this isn't just about you. If you fail, you let the whole team down."
Her gaze pinned me in place.
"Yes, Mother," I said quietly, hands clasped, head bowed.
She dismissed us for a break.
I went straight to the bench and grabbed my water bottle, keeping my eyes down. That's when I heard the whispers.
"It's not fair," one girl muttered. "She always gets the front spot."
"She doesn't even try that hard," another scoffed. "Her mum's a world champion. I was excited to learn from her... not stuck behind her daughter."
"I'd be disappointed if she were my kid."
I slipped my earphones in before they could say more.
I wanted to tell them to shut up, to tell them they had no idea what it was like living under that pressure. But I didn't. I never did.
That was why I didn't make friends here.
It was toxic.
I pulled my phone out instead, a smile tugged at my lips the second I saw Will's name.
You alive or did ballet finally kill ya?
I giggled quietly. He was such an idiot.
You're an idiot, I typed back. But yes, I'm alive.
The reply came almost instantly.
Good. I've got something fun planned. You in?
I hesitated, biting my lip as I glanced across the room. The girls were still whispering, still watching me like I was competition instead of a person.
Fuck it.
You know I'm down.
The nights blurred together after that.
Sneaking out once the house fell silent. Pulling my hoodie tight and slipping into the dark like I didn't belong to anyone for a few hours.
Sitting on his car rooftops with Will, legs dangling over the edge, sharing cheap food that tasted better than anything I'd ever eaten at home. Him stealing the last chip and pretending he didn't. Me threatening to push him off.
Walking through quiet streets where no one knew my name.
No mirrors. No corrections. No expectations.
Will never asked why I had to leave early, never pushed when I went quiet. He just walked beside me, talking about nothing and everything, like time didn't matter.
Sometimes we'd sit by the river, skipping stones and watching the water ripple out. He'd tease me when mine sank straight away, telling me it wasn't about strength, it was about letting go at the right moment.
I laughed more than I ever had.
I talked without thinking.
And without realizing it, something inside me loosened.
At practice, my movements felt different. Lighter. Less rigid. I stopped counting every mistake in my head. I stopped dancing like I was bracing for impact.
My mother noticed.
She didn't say why I'd improved.
She just demanded more.
One night I went out with Will again. It was colder than usual, the kind that crept under your skin. I wore a jacket with my hands tucked into the sleeves. Will walked beside me in a jumper, his hands shoved into his pockets.
He'd brought takeaway for both of us, and we sat on the hood of his car eating in comfortable silence. The city lights flickered in the distance.
After a while, he spoke.
"Hey, Mei," he said, glancing at me sideways. "I've got something different planned tonight."
My brows lifted. "Different how?"
He smiled soft, careful. "You trust me?"
Since the night I ran from my house and took his hand without knowing why, Will had been the only place I felt safe in. No expectations. No pressure. Just laughter. Just being young and me.
Something I'd never been allowed.
I'd always been careful not to take it too far. Afraid that if I did, this little pocket of freedom would be taken away too. That's why I played it safe. That's why I never asked for more.
But another part of me wanted to push. To break rules. To feel something reckless for once.
I'd spent my whole life being good. Perfect. Controlled. And suddenly, the thrill of doing something I shouldn't felt intoxicating.
I looked away, biting my lip, then turned back and smiled.
I punched his arm lightly, "I trust you, Will."
He winced dramatically, clutching his arm like I'd wounded him. "Wow. Violent."
I laughed, calling him an idiot as we climbed back into his car. He didn't tell me where we were going. My nerves buzzed, fear tangled with excitement.
Terrified.
Alive.
I told myself it was just one night. Just staying out later than I usually dared.
I didn't know then that it would introduce me to the kind of trouble that feels like freedom...
right before it ruins you.